The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1887-03-16

sAi fag ioy. But someone IS had spy-
glass said they wasn't abcafd-an --mfs-
Ter they wasn't.
I. The feiler ss was In her came from
the Jersey coast, an he said as man an
girl hast landed there the day before.
al the man "a young. good-lookln chap.
he said-,had paid him to bring the boat
OYER.
"Id KEEP. up pretty we'll till then.
but when I knowd she wasn't come
back an felt all Of . sudden as II she
might never come back. hid my face
III l,iy hands an cried like baby
SHE was all the world to me, was
Maggie. took herto me as q child an
brought her up an set nay heart on
Ter an for her TO leave me in my old
Days was mighty hard.
whan Igot quleted down they began
to comfort me a-sayin' as she might
come back. All. mister. II she only had
I'D have welcomed her, for she was still
my little Maggie, an I'D ha' loved her as
lnach as evor. But IL got to be Winter
an Spring an Summer an ON toward
Fall an heard nothin' OF her
. 1t wasn't much more than q year
after sha'd left when ors mornin . Eel
Ter came sailing over from theshpre with
Telegram for me- 1t came from The
city al n read that II was 10 20 to
one o the hospitals there. I'D find
ri as would like to see me; All It told
no 70 come quick. too. fer she was very
low. perhaps a-dyin..
= Yer may know who the girl was All
It's likely yer know, too. ~ ! wasn't
long q -gettin' TO her But wasn't any
TOO soon. She was lyin' on cot. an
when she saw me. u was Just all
she could do to stretch her arms out
TO me. so she could put 'em around me
au' press her poor. pale face against
mine sass .at
. Father. she whispered. I went
back on yer--on yer who'd been SO good
an Kind to me an. father. I want yer to
say be;ors die as you've forgiven
me.
II couldn't say nothin'. mister. Just
held her closer. held her TIL they
told ne shc couldn't speak no Faere.
at,' irea | laid her hack. Il WA only
Few .t'nntes after that she lived. but
af0f.. sl;e died she opened her eyes once
aore az moved her lips. | bent down
10 ler IN she could just whisper:
y Father, rm sure yer haven't gone
back OF Inc. I'm sure yer forgive me.
But -father-I want yer to forgive him,
too. Fnr--father--I'v forgiven
=. forgive, her, mlstcr, an I've tried
to forgive hisn. Ill try again. mister;
I'll Try hard for the little girls sake. |
know az his sins a-goin' to drive him
back here some time--drlve him hnek
that he may go on his knees to me an
tell IA. how he wronged her an me-
The mans voice broke In his emotion
had always been fond OF Uncle
Jake. hut after what he had told me I
liked him better than ever. 1 knew
4
heavily on him: and SO after that
couli to visit the tavern and cheer him
up.
One day toward Autumn. two years
afterwards, In one OF my not infreduent
visits 10 the tavern, Uncle Jake called
fne aside and said Mister, It's gettin'
kind o lonesome for the deg an me
down here Winters, an guess won't
stay henc'no longer after the Fall. I've
goi q hoNse as took over IN tho village
ashore yonder, near to where tho little
girls buried. The dog an want to be
near Maggie, an II yerll come down of
an on. we'll be glad ter see yer,
for y amt much company we'll be
havin'
Wen. Uncle Jake took the house
could.
The blazing logs and the singing kettle
seemed particularly CHEEKY one January
night A fierce wind was bowling
around the house. 1t had been showing
all day, but as 1t grew colder the snow
had stopped, and now requests sent icy
PARTICLES rattling against the window
panes.
The dog seemed sleeping peacefully
at least he hadn't stirred-whei Uncle
Jake went To- the hearth TO lift up tho
kettle The old man had brewed q
inch. and was just raising the glass 10
bis lips. when suddenly Samson sprai &
toward one OF the Windows With a fur
ious bark AS / turned In tLu direction
In which he sprang / saw what iuight
have ben an Illusion. 1t vanished so
quickly--a mans face. pale. huggarl and
driven, pressed against the pane. A
molaent later the dog was leapIng
against the door. sprang toward 1t
and threw 1t open, letting out the dog.
wao remained outside barking and howl
lag for huif an hour after ] had closed
the door.
j told Uncle Jake that thought
man hnd been out there, but all he said
was z guess it's one O. them tramps
as ceanes around. Samson amt particu-
lisr fond Of en-. But IL the fellow was
ttflti hfitt Wdiltt " uNkuk WHY u flu I ii1
khasI an'ask for 1t deccnt-lIke. Sure
led ina gotit"
The next morning was bright and
clear and very cold. As the wind
had subsidized. Uncle Jake proposed to
so over TO the graye-yard---he hardly
let a cay pass without going there.
The graveyard was little enclosure
trife further out OF the village than
our hoasc. AS we entered the gate
the dog suddenly darted forward
ksrking furinnsly IA he had the night
before. Following him hastily we SAW
what he was barking at. A thin, white
hand had clasped the headstone, aud
over the grave lay. face downwards, the
body Of man.
Uncle Jake grasped me and held
no back moment. Then We tried to
loose the hani. But 1t was claspcd so
firmly that we could hardly draw II
from tho stone. At last Il fell. and
we turned the body over. Isaw the
same pale. iiaggard, driven face that
was pressed against tfe window the
liistsr. said Uncle Jake solcmnly.
"hes come back. An IAN ~ think I've
forgiven HIN, - the littls gill ssked me
p = e. -.